


In the Bleak Midwinter

by Weddersins



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Character Development, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Gingerflower, Happy Ending, Holidays, Hux loves his cat, POV Armitage Hux, Pregnancy, Reylo - Freeform, Roux - Freeform, Stormpilot, author makes no apologies, author's holiday nostalgia overload, minor holiday drama, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21887263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/pseuds/Weddersins
Summary: Two years after the events in Rainboots, Armitage Hux is once again facing choice and change around the holidays.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 31
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dangerously unbeta'd fic, posted mostly because I think we could use a little happiness. I hope to have it totally complete and posted by the end of 2019, but we'll see how that works out.

Armitage Hux laid on his back, watched another sleepless night pass into dawn through a small slit in the broken blinds. The birds had long ago begun to sing in the darkness; an unusual noise for this time of year, but one he had grown accustomed to nonetheless. Their chirps and warbles punctuated the late November air, a cry for the earth to renew even as she was beginning her slumber. 

A brown leaf floated down from the hulking tree hovering at the edge of the curb, visible only for a moment in the tiny window afforded by the missing piece of slat. He imagined he could hear it skittering down the empty road, a dry rasp against the asphalt. In truth - the bird-song aside - his senses were otherwise occupied by the quiet, whuffling breaths of the small woman beside him. 

Hux shifted his attention to Rose, who slumbered on in her tangled blankets completely heedless of his inability to do the same. In the oblivion of sleep her lively face was still, perhaps even creased slightly in consternation at some dream-world her thoughts inhabited. Her black hair spilled over the pillow they were attempting to share, a sweatshirt-clad arm thrown over his middle and her knees pressing against his thigh. The pressure of her shoulders had long ago turned his right arm into a mess of pins-and-needles, and Hux wondered why he found it so hard to disturb her in order to relieve the uncomfortable sensation. 

Rose smiled in her sleep, and Hux knew damn good and well why he’d endure a thousand sleepless nights crammed into her double bed.

With a sigh, Hux stared across the room at the lines of ceramic animals on Rose’s bookshelf. He’d counted them all a hundred times already during the small hours of the morning, all thirty-seven of the tiny things. The small pony he’d gifted her nearly two years ago now sat in the middle, reminding him of how far he’d come. 

The crick in his neck reminded him of how far he had left to go. Years of sleeping in a battered recliner had made adjusting to the nights spent in a normal bed with normal sheets and blankets and pillows and _things_ almost suffocating. His legs felt unnatural in the covers, and falling asleep in something other than his usual black jeans seemed impossible. 

It may well _be_ impossible, for every night he spent in Rose’s apartment was the same: sleepless, restless, and uncomfortable. But every morning, he drank Rose’s bitter coffee and stared at her messy bedhead and realized it had all been worth it. Today would be no different.

The cadence of Rose’s breathing changed, the easy rise-fall giving way with a deep inhalation. Hux finally relented and moved his arm, wincing as sensation returned in a rush of pain. 

“Mornin’... you’re up early.” Rose blinked up at him lazily, her voice still thick with the fog of sleep. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, pushing the shabby duvet down.

Hux smiled, a lopsided affair that hid his bleary eyes. “Not that early,” he lied blithely, hoping against hope that Rose didn’t hear the untruth in his tone. If she did, she gave no indication, instead shifting herself onto an elbow and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. 

His animal brain stirred, bringing to mind words like _soft_ and _warm_ and _safe_. Before reality set back in and the haze of sleeplessness was thrown off entirely, Hux stretched a hand up. He warmed his cold fingers in her messy hair, drawing her face back down to his own. “Wasn’t done,” he murmured against her cheek, tilting his chin to capture her lips with his own. 

“Hadn’t started.” Rose replied, her breath mingling with his own. She stretched beside him, all languid warmth and comfort pressed up against his cold ill-ease. She melted against him, and he shifted to hold her entirely. 

For a moment, he lost himself in her gentle hands, her warm mouth, the brushing of her dark hair against his cheek. He shifted his legs as she settled between them, the twin swells of her breasts pressing against his chest and _oh_ , how his heart raced at the thought - 

But the moment, as all moments do, proved too short.

“Unfortunately,” Rose said against his cheek, “I think we’ve started something we can’t finish.” Pulling back, she regarded him with bright eyes and a regretful smile. “Early shift on Wednesdays.”

Hux grumbled, longing to remain in the soft moments here before reality set in. He pulled her back in for one more kiss. “Curse Wednesdays.”

“I often do.”

Another kiss. 

“Isn’t it that bloody turkey holiday next Thursday?”

“Thanksgiving, Armie. It’s called Thanksgiving.”

“Right, that one. Shouldn't you be off all week? You know, for the sake of maximum thankfulness?”

And another. 

“Don’t you remember the last two years at all?” 

“Mmm, there are some vague impressions.” 

“You’re impossible.” but as this statement was punctuated by a kiss, Hux refused to take any offense at Rose’s tone. Smoothing the hair back from where it had tangled over her ear in the night, he smiled at the flush that had risen in her lips and spread to her cheeks. 

Rose-red, just like her. 

“Coffee?”

“Coffee.”

They rolled out of the bed in a series of jerky movements, leaving the covers where they fell and each sucking in a breath at the frigid wood floors. The snow may not have arrived yet, but an unwelcome winter had certainly buried her claws in the city. 

Rose fished out a pair of fuzzy purple slippers from underneath the bed while Hux tried to pretend it wasn't _that_ cold, _really_ , while pulling last night’s discarded long-sleeved tee shirt back over his head. 

It was, truly, that cold. A draft from the ancient window to his right confirmed it. Hux felt the dreamlike haze of being half-asleep begin to slip away, taking with it the ease of familiarity. 

Rose was out of the room first, and no sooner had she creaked open the door than the _ticka-tack_ of dog nails echoed down the short hallway. The geriatric, overweight terrier who wheezed himself to sleep in front of the television every night waddled out of the living room to greet them with a full body wag. 

“Good morning Socrates!” Rose’s voice had turned into a saccharine-sweet mockery of itself at the sight of her pet, and she knelt down to scratch his belly with enthusiasm. The scruffy thing rolled over immediately with all four stubby legs wabbling in the air. 

Hux regarded it’s stomach with narrowed eyes, thankful that Millicent comported herself with more dignity. He shuffled on into the small, galley-style kitchen while Rose continued to shower the dog with affection, eager for the caffeine hit before the long walk home. 

Rose called out that coffee was in the top left cabinet just as his fingers were closing around it, which brought a genuine smile to Hux’s face. He’d made the coffee every morning he’d stayed over, and had remembered the location of her coffee tin after the first time. He popped the lid, savoring the rich scent. 

Arms wound around his middle as the pot began to percolate, and Rose settled her head against his back. He stiffened only for a moment at the unexpected contact, allowing himself to relax into her embrace in a way that would have been impossible a few short months ago. _Rose_ , his brain reprimanded, was _safe_. 

Safe, and stubborn. Rose refused to let go as he stretched for the mugs in the upper cabinet, causing them both to stumble and Rose to giggle in that way he loved. 

Hux spun himself around carefully in her embrace, holding two steaming mugs well above their heads. “Don’t jostle me, we’ll both regret it.”

“I regret nothing.” Rose said with some certainty, releasing him in order to grasp the full mug of black coffee with both hands.

“Mm, doubtful. We all have regrets,” Hux intoned, taking the first life-giving sip of the bitter liquid. He leaned against the counter in a manner he hoped looked nonchalant, but overall felt terribly awkward. It had to be the pajama pants - the stupid pajama pants he had yet to grow accustomed to. At least they were a dignified grey, and not the pink-with-sledding-dogs that Rose appeared to favor. 

Rose climbed onto the counter across from him, shimmying herself up with practiced ease. She took another sip of coffee before replying. “That’s true,” she mused, eyes bright. “I do _deeply_ regret some fashion choices in middle school.” 

“But not the fashion choices you’ve made now?” Hux teased, gesturing vaguely to her tatty sweatshirt, ridiculous pajama pants and fuzzy slippers. 

“Oh hell no,” Rose smirked, shifting to brace her feet against the bottom cabinet. “these pants are iconic.”

“They certainly are something.”

“You like them.”

“I like _you_.”

“I’m buying you a matching pair for Christmas.”

“I might like you a little less after that.”

Rose laughed, true and bright. 

Somewhere in the middle of this, Socrates had ambled into the kitchen. He panted heavily with the effort, and sat himself down dramatically on Hux’s left foot. The dog pointedly ignored the scowl Hux aimed in his direction, instead unleashing a thin trail of drool onto the wooden floor. For half a moment Hux entertained the idea of shooing the dog away, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. 

Besides, the damn thing _was_ warm. 

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the hot coffee finally making Hux feel like a human being instead of a vaguely person-shaped blob. Unfortunately, he could feel the easy camaraderie of the early morning slipping away. With awareness came his anxiety. Soon, he would be overthinking and flinching back, and the man he wanted to be would be nothing more than a groggy memory. 

He set his empty mug on the counter at the same time Rose leaned hers across for a refill. He took it from her dutifully, pouring out the last of the half-pot and handing it back without a word. She stared at him from across the small space, tangled bedhead illuminated by the light from the small window behind her and the lively lines of her face full of things unsaid. 

She was beautiful. 

And he was in so, _so_ far over his head. 

“I - I ought to get going.” He didn’t want to, not exactly - but the longer he lingered the harder it would be to leave. And Rose did have to go to work. And eventually, so would he. 

Besides, Millicent would be wanting her breakfast soon. 

Rose looked at the small clock on the wall, a frown creasing her features. “I…” placing her coffee cup down on the counter, she tapped her fingers anxiously on the ancient faux-wood laminate. She studied her feet for a moment, letting them swing gently against the cabinet door. When she raised her gaze to meet his, her eyes were full of an emotion Hux couldn’t quite describe. 

“What if you… didn’t have to go? Ever. I mean, again - ever again. What I mean is - ah, dammit, words aren’t working right - why don’t you just move in?” The words had burbled out in a rush, and Rose flushed a deep red. She chewed her lip, looking up at Hux through the curtain of her dark bangs.

Hux swallowed, mouth suddenly gritty and dry. Words formed and died on the tip of his tongue, none of them escaping into the cold air of the kitchen. He gripped the counter in a futile attempt to steady himself, knuckles turning white against the dingy metal of the edging. 

And he it wasn’t that he wanted to say no, it wasn’t that. It was just that he couldn’t force his mouth to do anything at all. 

The old panic rose in his throat, more bitter than any coffee. Little monsters that insisted he was one of _theirs_ and certainly not _hers_ began chanting in the back of his brain. The walls of the kitchen grew taller and closer, the room shrinking till the only thing he could see were Rose’s eyes. 

They were full of the fear of rejection. 

_You don’t belong here, with her. You belong to that hovel you crawled out of, to the stinking foxholes in the desert -_

Socrates whined, hauling himself up to trot back into the living room. 

Hux swallowed air in a gulp, hoping against hope that Rose hadn’t noticed the change in his demeanor. It had been weeks since one of _these_ had taken him by surprise. But this one did, and now he needed to _go_ \- outside, in the cold air, under open skies and he could settle. Unwanted, angry thoughts wiggled their way into his subconscious, and Hux gritted his teeth. 

He hadn’t noticed that he’d creaked out a noise at all until Rose put her hands in the air, palms out in a placating gesture. “You don’t - Armie, you don’t have to answer me right now. It’s okay.” She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

God _dammit_ , he’d made her sad. 

“Rose, I… let me -” finally speech returned, and he half-collapsed in relief. He could explain - 

“No, Armie, stop - you don’t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have… it was stupid, just don’t worry about it.” Rose slid from the counter, rejection and embarrassment writ large across her face. 

He reached for her, but she was around the corner and gone before his fingers could catch her sweatshirt. Socrates waddled along after her, and Hux was left standing alone in the empty kitchen. 

By the time he heard the telltale screech of the shower faucets being turned on, his mind was made up. He wouldn’t wait for her, he wouldn’t walk her out as was their custom. He’d let her have time to think, he rationalized. It was what _he’d_ want, were their roles reversed. 

The little voice that asked him if it was what _Rose_ would want was shushed forcefully. 

Hux carefully washed the two mugs and put them away, as if his heart wasn’t in his throat. He changed into his black jeans, folding the soft pajama pants as it was any other morning. He closed the apartment door behind him softly, locked it with the small pink key Rose had given him nearly a year ago. He tucked his hands into his pockets, ducked his head against the cold breeze that tugged at his jacket. It was a lonely walk back to his quiet, cold apartment. 

Millicent yowled and wound around his ankles, purring in her off-tempo way as she begged for her breakfast. Hux made it all the way to the cupboard before the full weight of his anxiety hit him. 

He sank to the floor, poured Millicent twice her usual breakfast allotment. Hux stared into the whorls and lines of his cabinet door, mind racing. One hand absently stroked Millicent as she ate, her throaty purrs the only noise in the small room. 

——

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Hux flinched at Ben’s not-question, and set the can of green beans on the shelf with more force than truly necessary. 

“And I’m usually a chatterbox, hmm?” Hux had not yet decided whether to tell Ben about this morning. That Rose’s dejected expression still lurked in the quiet corners of his thoughts, that his stomach still clenched into a knot at the thought of her walking into the empty kitchen and realizing he’d left. 

What was he so afraid of?

It hasn’t been the right call. He had known that even as he locked the door behind him. He should have stayed, should have waited for her to come out of the shower and wrapped her in his arms, kissed away the sadness on her face. 

He should have _used his words_ to explain why he had frozen. The imagined face of his therapist, stern and disappointed, echoed the sentiment. 

Rose would have understood. She had patiently sat through a thousand of his insecure moments, and he couldn’t give her the same courtesy, couldn’t manage to control his anxiety for ten seconds to give her a millimeter of the same support she’d shown him now for _years_ \- 

But that wasn’t the heart of it. The truth was, Hux couldn’t let himself actually contemplate the idea of change, so he turned and ran. 

Sometimes it seemed like running away was all he knew to do. 

“Running? Running from what?”

Hux hadn’t realized he’d said the last part out loud until Ben’s rumbling reply startled him from his thoughts. He set the final can of beans on the shelf, turning to face his friend in surprise. 

“Running from what?” Ben repeated, a curious look on his face. 

“Nothing.” Hux said, too quickly. 

Ben, nonplussed, rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Armitage.” 

They continued on in silence, the faint sounds of music over then PA just enough distraction to keep them from speaking.

As Hux was pulling another pallet of cream of mushroom soup from the cart, he caught Ben staring at him. He gave him a withering look until the bigger man shrugged and resumed rearranging the cans of corn. 

They finished their shift in silence, clocking out just as the sun was beginning to rise. 

Hux shivered in the predawn air, breath clouding as he waited for Ben to lock the door behind him. The sky was lightening, just starting to tinge the muted pinky-orange that heralded the sunrise. 

Ben strode up, rubbed his hands together before blowing into them for warmth. Neither of the two of them had remembered gloves. 

“Coffee?” Ben stamped his feet on the sidewalk, shook his massive shoulders. “Colder’n a witch’s tit out this morning. Gonna snow later.”

The air did indeed smell like snow, a heavy crispness which hung in the air like a promise. Hux jammed his hands into his pockets, watched the puff of his breath disappear. He opened his mouth to refuse the offer of coffee - it wasn’t that he didn’t want a cup, but he was afraid if he spent any more time in Ben’s presence he’d end up telling him what he’d done. 

_I fucked it up - she wants to move forward and I’m stuck in the past, like always, Ben - I’m a fucking graveyard, and she’s a freshly sown field._

He still wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted, yet. 

“I’d really…” Ben trailed off, rubbed his neck and looked up at the salmon-colored sky, “actually, I really need to talk to you. Outside of work, I mean. Probably easier over coffee. Can you… could you please come?”

Hux frowned, furrowed his brow. There was something in Ben’s tone that felt _off._ His stomach clenched again, but Hux nodded. 

A five-minute walk found the two men seated in a 24-hour diner, grimy and gritty but somehow managing to have both passable coffee and extremely agreeable pancakes. It had become an increasingly familiar haunt over the past two years, and now they slid into a booth without being directed to and found steaming cups of coffee sat before them without even asking. 

Hux stared down at the black brew, watching concentric circles form and abate as the rather stout line cook stomped past their table. He made no move to pick up the cup, far more consumed by the patterns he found therein.

Even at this early hour, the diner was still bustling with quiet industry. Plates clanked, the register rattled and a low hum of conversation reverberated around them. The noise was a comforting blanket, familiar and _safe._

_Ben is safe,_ his mind reminded him. _Ben is your friend._

Ben cleared his throat, and Hux snapped his head up.

“Maybe you need some decaf instead,” Ben chuckled good-naturedly, “you’re half asleep already. You going home to rest after this?”

Hux shook his head. “No. Therapy at eleven. I’ll probably go haunt the library for a bit.”

“Take a nap there if they won’t kick you out, Jesus. You look awful and you’ve been acting off all night. You sure you don’t wanna talk?”

Hux found he _did_ want to talk, but anxious curiosity regarding what Ben had asked him there for won out over the need for reassurance. “No, no - I’m fine. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Ben’s concerned expression morphed into a look of weariness. “It’s, uh - well, I mean, you know with the, uh, the baby coming, there were bound to be…”

The words wavered in the air, as if aware of their importance. 

Ben rubbed his neck awkwardly, looked everywhere but across the table. Hux picked up his coffee mug, took a steadying sip to disguise the anxious set of his mouth, the tremble in his hands. He could almost _feel_ the world shift beneath his feet, and he braced himself for impact. 

“Hux, I've gotten a new job.” Ben spat the words out in a rush, looking down at the worn Formica counter like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “I gave notice at the start of shift tonight. It’s not anything special, but it’s daytime hours and the pay is better and we actually get health insurance - what a concept, right?” he chuckled, finally looking up. “I’ll be finishing the holiday season at the Food Mart, but then…”

Hux was sure that Ben had kept on speaking, but his words were replaced by a high-pitched whine. His hand shook as he set the mug back down on the table, spilling a tiny bit of coffee on the green surface. Hux’s eyes searched the diner, frantically - had anyone else felt the earth shake? Didn't any of them realize that everything was _different_ , that nothing could possibly be the same - 

Ben - Ben, who’d been beside him in the desert, in crime, in prison - 

He couldn’t just _leave_ \- 

Hux dug his fingers into his thigh, trying to keep the muscle from jumping as his thoughts spiraled out of control. 

“ - and if you want, I’ll help you.”

The words shot like an arrow through his addled mind, dragging his focus kicking and screaming back into the moment. “What?” he asked, wincing as his voice cracked. 

“I’ll help you. To get an interview, I mean. To come over with me. I don’t know what the store is paying you, but it can’t be that much different than me - I know an office mailroom isn't exactly a glamorous position but it would sure be something to have an almost nine-to-five job, right?” Ben chuckled weakly, took a sip of the quickly cooling coffee. 

Hux stared at him across the table, dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure what was worse - staying at the grocery without Ben, or moving to a completely new job _with_ him.

His brain ground entirely to a halt. 

“Hux? You, uh - you okay there, buddy?” Ben was peering at him with concern, waving a large hand in front of his face.

Hux nodded slowly, clenching his jaw. 

“Hey man, I know it’s… a lot.” Ben said gently. “But things have been going better for you lately - I mean, since Rose and all - and I just… I figured this could be a good time for you to make a change, too, you know?”

Hux’s stomach wound itself into a tight knot and remained there, growling angrily at him. 

“Yes,” he said stiffly, “things… have been better.”

Ben leaned back in the booth, slightly relieved. “Yeah, I mean, I thought so. She’s been good for you. Haven’t seen you like this since Basic.”

Hux nodded again, worked up a grim smile. Ben echoed it back with his own lopsided grin. “Well, just, uh - let me know if you want me to drop your name. I gotta go - Rey’s got an appointment in - oh fuck, like an hour. I’m supposed to meet her there and it’s three buses away - shit, man, I’m sorry, I gotta go.” Ben jolted up from his seat, jostling the booth behind them in the process. He threw a few dollars on the table for the coffee. 

Hux stared up at him blankly. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hux. Think it over, yeah? You don’t have to tell me right away.” Ben clapped a hand on his shoulder before he turned and bolted for the door. He broke into a sprint, charging down the empty sidewalk in the direction of the nearest bus shelter. 

Hux watched him out the window until he rounded the corner, then simply stared at nothing. His thoughts flew apart, and even the mug in his hands couldn’t ground him. 

First Rose, now Ben. 

Hux chewed the inside of his cheek, worrying away at it till it was raw and bleeding. _Where was this calm external acceptance this morning_ , he growled to himself, _when Rose needed it?_

The guilt mingled with anxiety in his gut, burning and angry. 

Hux was jolted back to reality when the waitress accidentally sloshed coffee on his hand while refreshing his cup. 

“Oh, darlin, I’m sorry!” she cried, wiping up the spill on the table and offering Hux a fresh napkin to blot at his hand. “Goodness, my brain is somewhere else today. You alright?” Her drawling southern accent was out of place here, in this land of snow and ice, and Hux clung to the oddity of it like a lifeboat back to reality. 

“I’m fine.” he managed. The burn really wasn’t too bad, in truth. 

“You sure?” she asked again, face contrite. “I’ve done than enough to myself to know it doesn't tickle.”

“I’m sure,” he said, trying his best to be reassuring. 

“If you’re sure… well, can I at least get you something?” 

The shock of the scald was wearing off, and Hux’s mind was turning back towards the deep grooves of its familiar pathways. He fought against it, forcing a fake smile for the waitress. “Pancakes.”

“You got it, sugar.” she smiled, plainly relieved. 

As she left, Hux turned his attention back to the plate-glass window. The morning had begun, and with it the city’s daily grind. Businessmen in their dark suits roamed the sidewalks, interspersed with children walking to school. 

It was strange that even in the press of humanity this large, he could manage to feel so alone. 

When the waitress returned moments later with a plate of steaming pancakes, Hux offered her a wan smile and accepted the small paper packet of silverware she handed him, but made no motion to eat. 

He stared out the window till the plate had long grown cold, lost to his thoughts. 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t till the wee small hours of the morning that Hux allowed himself to reflect. He was crammed against the wall in Rose’s double bed, her body pressed against his. She was the only thing keeping him warm under the thin duvet as the wind leaked through the drafty window above his head. 

He twisted himself to watch her sleep, her smooth face illuminated by the pale glow of the alarm clock. Her words rattled around in his mind, bumped themselves against the edges of his thoughts and tried to settle in. 

_ this job could be a great opportunity,  _ she’d said.  _ logical move - the next steps.  _

Almost as loud as the words she did say were the ones she didn’t - a careful and studious avoidance of anything to do with their conversation the other morning. Hux winced as he recalled the look on her face, tried to blot out the memory as shame boiled in his stomach. 

A memory of his therapy session today filtered in, of Doctor Holdo looking down her nose at him and sighing as he stonewalled and deadpanned his rote replies. 

_ You are almost to the end of your court-mandated sessions, Mister Hux. My recommendation regarding your disposition will be due shortly.  _

He pushed these words out of his mind too, knowing there was no way he’d be free of these sessions given his past behavior. It was useless to hope otherwise. 

Hux wanted to force his thoughts to settle, to bend Rose’s words to his will and rebuild the foundations of his psyche with these new goalposts in mind. It felt like the more he tried to assimilate them, the faster the words skirted away. 

He should  _ want _ to stop attending the therapy sessions with the counselor who thought he couldn’t get better. 

He should  _ want _ to get a better job. 

He should  _ want _ to move in with the girl who’d brought the light back into his world. 

But he didn’t, and it terrified him to think of the fact that he probably never _could_.

The old fears gnawed at him, full of whispered doubts and recriminations. No matter how many times he tried to remember that Rose was  _ safe _ , his base self quailed in fear. 

She’d grow tired of him eventually. Someday, he’d become too much and Rose would leave - 

He had to be prepared for that. 

Several times through the sleepless night, he felt the urge to flee from the bed, to dress and walk the silent streets and go home to his cat and his recliner and let the television play infomercials till the dawn broke. 

But he didn’t. 

He was frozen in place by a pair of arms and the dozy smile on Rose’s slack face. She held him as effectively as any shackle, perhaps moreso. 

The most pleasant prison he’d ever known. 

But he knew - perhaps from the beginning, he’d known the end. This pleasant interlude in the long stretch of his loneliness had already lasted longer than he could have hoped. 

He was already in too deep.

He watched her dress the next morning, watched her smile over the rim of her coffee cup and love on her dog and he especially watched her as she went to kiss him goodbye. 

Hux memorized the way her lips felt as they pressed against his, the way her hands gripped his forearms for leverage, how she stood on her tiptoes to reach him. He lingered, placed his hand against the small of her back and tried to keep her closer -

_ Just another moment,  _ he thought,  _ let me dwell here for just a little longer.  _

They left together that morning, a welcome rarity. Rose locked the door behind her and shrugged into her thick winter coat. The clunk of her rainboots accompanied them down the hallway, and Hux wondered if his wish would be granted. 

——-

The days following passed in a hollow blur, with Hux perfunctorily performing his tasks at work. He fetched and carried for Rose as requested. He meted out the appropriate allotment of food for Millicent. He even rescheduled his next therapy appointment so that he could bus across town to collect a missing ingredient for the very pregnant and extremely thankful Rey. 

He was, in every respect, calm and placid and  _ normal _ . 

So much so that when Rose gave him a sideways glance as they mounted the steps to Rey and Ben’s stoop, bottles of wine and a store-bought pie in hand, that he was momentarily taken aback. 

“Are you alright?” Rose asked, eyes narrowed and mouth downturned with concern. She adjusted her grip on the pie, hand hovering over the doorbell but giving him a moment to reply. 

Hux chewed his lip, smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, of course I’m alright,” he lied, rebalancing the bottles to lean over and kiss her forehead, “why wouldn’t I be?”

If Rose sensed the falsehood she gave no indication, beaming up at him brightly and depressing the doorbell. “Sorry,” she said quietly, so quiet that it was almost hard to hear her over the ruckus coming from inside, “silly question.”

Before Hux could reply, Ben Organa flung open the door and welcomed them inside with a mock bow. He had been stoic and silent the last few shifts, but a high flush across his pronounced cheekbones indicated that he’d had a bit of  _ something _ already this morning and he was far more effusive than usual. 

“Armitage! Rosie! Come in, come in - Rosie, I have the parade on, if you want…”

Hux had been surprised to learn how much Ben loved the Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was something of an open secret in the family. No matter how often he tried to use Rose as his cover, everyone knew he was the one who was soft for the giant balloons and the high-school marching bands - Rose just played along gamely. 

“Of course, Ben, just - I should drop this pie off with Rey first -” 

“Give it to Hux, Rey wanted to see him anyways,” Ben cajoled, casting a glance over his shoulder at the television apparently to ensure they were still on a commercial break, “you already missed Deep Run High’s marching band.”

Rose laughed and shed the last of her warm outer layers before grabbing Ben’s arm affectionately and dragging him towards the den. She shot a glance over her shoulder at Hux before smiling broadly as she disappeared around the corner. 

Hux stood alone in the entry, a half-smile frozen on his face. He could hear Rey clattering around the kitchen, muffled curses accompanying the sound of a whisk against a metal bowl. There was a clatter of  _ something _ against the wooden side of a cabinet, with Rey’s shriek following close behind. 

Hux looked down at the pie and sighed, shuffling around the corner into the galley-style kitchen. 

“‘lo Rey, Happy Thanksgiving,” he ventured, holding the pie out before him like a peace offering, “we brought the pumpkin pie you asked for.”

“Armitage, excellent - put that pie down on the table and get in here, I need help.” 

Rey looked, for lack of a better word, exhausted. Her round stomach pushed the tatty apron forward like an odd balloon, and her chin-length hair had become a frizzy halo around her head from the heat and humidity in the small space. She leaned heavily against the counter, grabbed blindly for a half-full mug of coffee behind her. The kitchen was already a disaster, with every burner occupied and the oven light bathing a turkey and two baking dishes in odd orange glow. 

“Should you be… doing this?” Hux asked, gesturing with his free hand at the wreckage of the usually-pristine kitchen. 

Her eyes went wild, and Hux felt sure his expression betrayed his dismay. Rey sighed, pushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead with a flour-covered hand. “Probably not,” she admitted, “but just you try to stop me.”

“I mean, I  _ definitely _ could stop you. You look like I could sneeze in your general direction and you'd fall over... I probably should call Kyl-  _ Ben  _ in here at least. Rey, you look like you’ve been at this all night.” 

“I just need an extra pair of hands.”

“You need a  _ nap _ .”

“Oh come off it,” Rey sighed, somehow both angry and penitent, “please,  _ please _ don’t argue with me. And don’t ask me to get Rose or Ben to help, if it were up to them they’d just make me sit down on the couch to watch that godawful parade or have a shower and a nap and they’d just  _ completely _ take over and Rose can’t cook to save her  _ life _ and lord knows Ben’s not much better…” she paused, exhaling and putting on what Hux assumed was her best puppy dog expression. “... and this is the last Thanksgiving I’m going to be able to cook with two free hands. Please, Armitage… don’t rat me out.”

Hux sat the pie down on the table, making note that Rey had yet to pull the leaf out to add Poe and Finn’s seats. From what he knew of Rey’s nearly military-grade precision when it came to things surrounding the other holidays they’d spent together, she was  _ very _ behind. 

He stared at her from across the kitchen, and she stared back, all bloated stomach and swollen ankles with a face ruddy from exertion. 

She looked miserable. A part of him - perhaps the same part that always heard his mother in the way Rey said his name - wanted to help. 

A larger part of him than he cared to admit also really didn’t want to be eating “lunch” at four in the afternoon. 

He grumbled under his breath, turning back to Rey and watching her hobble across the kitchen to stir something in the stove. Hux grabbed a kitchen chair, dragging it behind him as he crossed the small space to stand by the boiling stove. He pushed Rey gently but firmly into the seat, an easier feat than usual given her wonky center of gravity. She plopped into a seated position, scowling up at him and crossing her arms above her belly. 

He glared back imperiously. “Don’t argue with me. You don’t want Ben? Fine. But you’re going to sit your arse down and tell me what I need to do to get this meal on the table by one o’clock.”

Hux took the wooden spoon from her with a stern glare, which quickly softened as Rey began to laugh. She pointed back at the stove, at the tall-sided pot where something off-white and frankly rather off-putting burbled happily. 

“Stir the cream of mushroom, and then we’ll need to blanch the green beans.” Rey tugged herself a little closer to an open drawer, propping her slippered feet up and nudging Hux with her calf in the process. “You ever fried onions before?”

“....no?

“Lucky you, then, I bought premade this year.”

The intervening four hours practically flew by, with Poe and Finn bursting in somewhere in the middle and making a boisterous racket in the living room. They thankfully avoided the kitchen aside from depositing their containers of homemade cranberry sauce and yeasty-smelling rolls along with a shouted instruction to warm them in the oven while the turkey was resting. 

Hux had never spent this much time in the kitchen preparing  _ anything _ before, and he was surprised to find he didn’t entirely hate it. What’s more, he was reasonably certain there were aspects of it he might actually be  _ good _ at. It was a fairly confusing realization, and one flecked with the memories of melted styrofoam ramen cups and over-crisped hot pockets. 

Maybe he was just bad at making  _ shitty _ food, not necessarily bad at making  _ good _ food. 

Rey patted his shoulder affectionately before she decanted the stuffing into a white corningware dish. “I always knew you had it in you.”

Hux wiped his hands on the faded floral apron he’d somehow been conned into wearing before replying, “Well that makes exactly one of us.” He removed the apron, balling it up and tossing it into the corner where Rey had been throwing the ruined dish towels. Her own apron joined it shortly, and Hux found himself presented with oven mitts and pointed in the direction of a hot dish. He carried the stuffing to the table - leaf now fully extended, linens straightened and two spare chairs pulled around - and set it down on the folded up dishrag beside the turkey. Rey waddled in behind him with a basket full of the now-warmed yeasty rolls, plopping them down unceremoniously at the end of the table and stepping back to survey their feast, hands on her hips. 

She turned to him with a smile, wiping a shower-damp strand of hair behind her ear again. “Thanks, Armitage. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Hux looked at the table, fussed at the corner of a folded paper napkin before replying. “You could have done,”

Rey laughed, shoving him with her hip once again. “Well, sure. But I wouldn’t have had a shower and lunch might have turned into dinner and the turkey  _ definitely _ would have burnt if I didn’t have you to make the stuffing so I could obsessively check on it.”

Despite his best intentions, Hux snorted out a laugh. He’d kicked Rey out of her own kitchen under the guise of forcing her to take a shower, but it had been as much for self-preservation as anything else. He was fairly certain if she had opened that oven door even once more they’d need to cut the air-con on despite the foot of snow outside. 

“Careful Armitage, or I’ll conscript you next year too.”

He surveyed the table, an odd sense of pride making the ever-present heaviness in his chest a tiny bit lighter. 

The other four chose than moment to round the corner into the kitchen, stomping about and loudly commenting on how  _ good _ everything smelled, and _ oh Rey good, you got to have a shower  _ and -

A large hand gripped his bicep, and Hux flinched before he recognized Ben’s dark hair out of the corner of his eye. His friend smacked his shoulder with a little too much force and leaned in close, the smallest hint of booze still on his breath. “I owe you, buddy,” he began, pausing to make sure Rey was out of earshot before continuing, “she kicked me out of the kitchen at eight this morning when I tried to help. Wouldn’t let me do a damn thing, and I know _that_ _look_ she had in her eyes, if I’d kept it up we’d all regret it. Thanks for staying and making sure she was okay.” He frowned, brushing a bit of flour off of Hux's brown sweater and accidentally transferring it to his own black Henley. "There, that's that then."

Ben released him before Hux could reply, swooping grandly across the room to kiss his pregnant wife and loudly declare the table to be set beautifully with a meaningful glance in Hux’s direction. Rey squealed, and Finn protested loudly - and jokingly - that Ben ought to leave her alone, because  _ look at the state of her already _ ,  _ haven’t you done enough Benjamin Organa? _

Hux took his seat by Rose, who reached over to peck his cheek before snatching the serving spoon out of the mashed potatoes. He sat back, watching the family squabble good-naturedly. Hot dishes of food were passed to him and he dutifully accepted them, spooned himself large portions of this feast he’d somehow helped prepare. 

Rose’s left hand found its way back to his thigh, a reassuring squeeze shoring him up before she began to weave a nonsensical pattern on the dark denim. He caught her hand in his, stilling it. 

Rose caught his eye, just for a moment, and smiled  _ that _ smile - the one that realigned the planets, made the earth grind to a halt and had made him follow her home one New Years Eve two years ago. 

The meal and the table and those around it blurred into warm colors, and cheered by the company and the warm hand held in his, Hux found himself smiling as he took his first bite. 

——

A scant two hours later, lunch had been eaten, the plates had been cleared and washed and mostly put away, and Ben had put on Nat King Cole’s Christmas album at Poe’s cajoling and Rey’s downright insistence. 

Finn and Poe were across the room bickering about the correct way to light Ben and Rey’s ancient artificial tree while Rose pulled individual rubbery plastic branches from a battered cardboard box and waved them vaguely under Hux’s nose. 

“This is an A… and here’s an E. Which of you put this tree away last year? Because this is ridiculous.” Rose scowled at the branches, reattaching a bristle to one before passing it to Hux to stack and sort. 

Ben grumbled from the kitchen, where the kettle was whistling loudly. Hux dutifully stacked the branches into neat little piles, studiously staying out of both tiffs while ensuring Yuletide order as best he could. 

“Rose - is that an E or an F? Who wrote these, I can’t even begin to read this…” he grumbled, measuring the branch against another in the stack when Rose couldn’t decipher the hieroglyphic writing either. 

It appeared to be an F. 

Ben emerged from the kitchen carrying four mugs, doling them out dutifully before re-emerging two more, one of which was a chipped blue mug that had a PG Tips string hanging over the side. This he passed to Hux without a word, and bopped Rose gently on the head as he crossed the room to the faded ornament box. 

The tape skipped a little on Adeste Fideles, and Ben scowled at the player before wriggling open a cardboard drawer full of ornaments. Rose rolled her eyes, threw a wadded up ball of brown paper packing at him. “Ben, the tree’s still in pieces! Come put your freakish height to good use and stick the topper on. Armie can start at the bottom and you can work down and we’ll have this murder tree up before you know it.”

Hux swiveled to stare at her as Ben snorted. Hux raised an eyebrow. 

“Demanding, aren’t you? Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“I’ll have Christmas spirit when the tree’s up and lit, because then Finn and Poe will have to  _ shut up about string lights  _ and Rey’s cookies will be done.” This was said with a meaningful glare in the couple’s direction, which neither of them noticed. Finn was balancing on a chair, a strand of bushy pre-lit garland in his hands to place above the kitchen entryway. Poe was on the ground, ostensibly holding the chair steady but was more likely staring at Finn’s backside as his partner blathered on about how  _ colored lights are more welcoming _ and  _ white lights were for outdoor decorations and office buildings _ . 

Rey stuck her head out of the entryway, rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and waddled back into the kitchen to check on the oven. 

The whole room  _ was _ starting to smell rather nice, Rey’s hastily assembled gingersnaps and chocolate chip cookies a welcome accompaniment to the dust they’d disturbed from the attic. Hux was suddenly glad he’d caved to Rose’s insistence that they stay and help Rey set up Christmas once they discovered she couldn’t be dissuaded from her plans to do so - despite the insistence of literally  _ everyone _ that she sit down. 

They’d compromised by doing the heavy lifting while she made cookies. 

Ben was already hoisting the partially-assembled topper onto the trunk, fluffing out the plasticy bristles as he did so. Hux swallowed any words of protest when he caught sight of Rose’s expression and wriggled under the tree with a large A-branch in hand. He stuck it in the first slot on the trunk, and was surprised to find it didn’t want to cooperate. He shoved it again, hard enough to shake the tree. 

“Oh, you found one of The Branches,” Ben said with a hint of malice. 

“Why - did it - sound like -  _ branches _ \- was - capitalized?” Hux grunted, trying the branch on six of eight holes before he found a match. 

“Because it was. Some of them just… want to fit where they want to fit and not exactly where  _ you _ want them to go.” Ben was following a similar procedure with a smaller branch, scowling as it finally found a home on the third try. 

“This is going to take hours,” Hux muttered, grabbing another branch and running into the same problem. 

“Remind me again why you have this tree, Ben?” Rose laughed from her new position atop the couch, where she was balanced precariously stuffing a bit of colorful greenery into the nearby bookshelf. 

“I’ll hear no slander against the tree!” Rey called from the kitchen, waddling out with an oven mitt pointed squarely at Rose. “It’s a beautiful tree and it looks just like a real one but with no needle drop.”

“...you found it in a dumpster, didn’t you?” Rose was shaking her head as she pushed a few books back to make room for a small ceramic house. 

“I…”

“She definitely did,” Poe smirked, “she never gets this defensive unless it’s A Find.”

“Oi! No slander against the tree!” Rey whirled to face her erstwhile brother-in-law, whacking him across the bicep with an oven mitt. He lunged for her playfully, but Rey danced away with surprising grace. 

“Leave my wife alone, Poe,” Ben growled good-naturedly. He hadn’t even looked up from the branch he was trying to click into place on the trunk, finally settling it in after another try. 

Finn only chuckled, hopped down from the chair and gave his sister a friendly pat on her head. “It’s a trash tree, love, but if you like it then that’s what -”

His words turn into a yelp as Rey thwacked him with the pot holder. Before he could retaliate, the oven beeped and Rey retreated into the kitchen after a hollow threat to let the cookies burn if they didn’t stop mocking her poor tree. 

Ben changed the cassette to Neil Diamond’s Christmas album to the chagrin of everyone but him. His low baritone rumble blended harmoniously with the album, and before long Poe and Finn’s more midrange tenor voices joined in for Silent Night. 

Rey plunked a plate of cookies on the coffee table just as Santa Claus was coming into town. 

Rose reached over to grab two, eyeing them in much the same way Millicent did her occasional cans of tuna. She slid to the edge of the couch cushion, nudged Hux gently with the side of her foot. He quirked one eyebrow upward, and opened his mouth to tease her - but before he could get a word out Rose had stuffed a warm cookie between his teeth. 

At his surprised expression, Rose laughed warmly, and Ben bit back a deep chuckle. “Rosie, you gonna feed me a cookie too?”

“Mmmm nah. You’re too tall.”

“...Rose, I’m a whole inch taller than Armitage.”

“Yeah, but you’re like three times as wide.”

“Oi!” Hux grumped around a mouthful of warm cookie. 

“You’re perfect the way you are, sweetie,” Rose said placatingly, patting his leg as he wriggled back under the tree. 

After mercifully moving up a row after nearly twenty minutes, Hux resigned himself to a long afternoon puzzling out this ancient Christmas tree. He was slightly cheered after the third branch he picked up was sorted on the first try. 

After twenty more minutes and four more cookies, found he didn’t quite mind it after all. 

——-

Two hours after Poe had finally acquiesced to Finn’s demand for colored lights, and the tree had finally been trimmed. It twinkled brightly in the corner of the room, accompanied by the lighted garlands strung all over the small space. 

The lower level of the house had been transformed. It was cheery, and cozy, and homey with the scent of cookies and the tang of spiked eggnog hanging heavy in the air. The lights were off, and everyone was calm. Finn, Poe, and Ben were talking in low, hushed tones about nothing of consequence, with Rose piping in every so often. Rey had just fallen asleep on the loveseat, feet on the armrest and head in Ben’s lap. Hux was sat with his back braced against the couch, Rose curled above him on the cushion. She was idly toying with his hair, her blunt nails scratched his scalp intermittently.

He forced himself to unclench the muscles in his back, to enjoy the affection without worrying if someone else  _ saw _ . 

What a stupid thing to worry about. 

A single bulb on one of the light strings flickered, catching his eye. Hux drilled in on it, watching the blue light dance before softly blinking out. 

“What do you think Armie?”

He shifted against the couch, his focus brought back to the group. “About what?”

“Would you have taken the red pill or the blue pill?”

“Oh god,” Hux groaned, running a hand over his face, “are you still on this?”

“Pretty sure we’re going to keep asking you till you tell us,” Finn chuckled. “May as well give in mate.”

“It’s an impossible choice.”

“And yet,” Poe said, clapping his hands together, “somehow everyone but you has made it.”

They’d been shouting about this movie since it came out over a year ago. Hux had reluctantly watched it at Finn and Poe’s insistence, and it hadn’t really hit home with him. Everyone else was obsessed. 

“You’re going to keep asking, aren’t you?” He sighed, cast his eyes to the cracked ceiling. 

“Until we get an answer,” Ben said cheerfully. 

“Oh  _ fine _ ,” he groused, prompting a laugh from Rose. “Red.”

“I  _ told _ you! I  _ so _ told you, you didn’t believe me but I told you,” Ben crowed, shushing as Rey stirred in her sleep. “Hux is a realist.”

“Yeah yeah,” Finn said, shaking his head. “But the real question is, which one of us will be the first to find the glitch in the Matrix?”

“Finn, you know it’s a movie, right? It’s important to me that you understand this.”

“And that’s why you’ll never find it. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to break us all out when I do. I won’t leave you trapped in the system.” 

Rose groaned cheerfully, and Hux managed a small smile. He turned to look up at her, catching her hand in his and brushing his lips against her fingers so briefly it was barely felt, let alone seen. Her smile at the contact made his heart swell.  He sank back against the couch, finally letting the tension out of his shoulders. Rose’s fingers resumed their nonsense patterns in his hair, the random paths committed to his memory along with the rough edge of the rug he sat on, the way the Christmas lights refracted in Poe’s discarded glasses on the coffee table, the flicker of the incandescent candles in the windows. 

The room around him blurred to warm colors, swimming before his eyes as the conversation passed him by. Hux narrowed the world down to the sensation of Rose’s hand and the sense of  _ belonging _ too strong to ignore before closing his eyes and shutting out all the rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Rey's Very Round Preggo Lady experience cooking thanksgiving dinner is pretty closely modeled after one of mine, as is their ridiculous Christmas tree & Christmas music. :) 
> 
> Come say hi to me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/weddersins).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am SO sorry it's taken me SO LONG TO UPDATE. Real life has been a real bear lately. We're almost done! Onward and yonward. 
> 
> CW: coping via alcohol, mentions of labor.

“Armie?”

“Mmpffh.”

“Wake up for a sec, you’re smooshing me.”

“God - sorry Rosie,”

“Don’t be sorry -”

“Better?”

“Mmm, mmhm, much better.”

“Bloody hell, your toes are like ice.”

“Stop hogging the blanket then.”

“I know what I’m getting you for Christmas.”

“Socks?”

“No, a proper blanket. This duvet isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

“But I have you to keep me warm.”

“Apparently with the exception of your toes.”

——-

It had been two weeks since fighting with Ben and Rey’s Christmas tree - two weeks filled with work and Rose and brightly colored lights.

He’d felt almost jubilant at watching Poe and Finn struggle with the decorations on their stoop last week, hearing them ribbing each other through the paper-thin walls. He hadn't even minded when Finn dragged him over, ostensibly to help but in reality to ply him with baked goods in exchange for occupying Poe while Finn executed his master plan.

“But you _are_ helping,” Finn had hissed under his breath, arms full with the tackiest animatronic snowman Hux had ever seen in his life, “once it’s all up there’s much less of a fight to remove it.”

Hux sipped his mulled wine, stole another bite of cookie, and listened while Poe rambled on about the state of the tiny coffee shop he worked for and the gossip surrounding one of his favorite regulars.

The decoration of Rose’s apartment the next night had happened with considerably less drama, as it was just the two of them… but had taken considerably longer for reasons wholly unrelated to the decorations themselves. 

It was… nice. Easy. Like the two of them had always simply _been_ and always would be. 

He’d actually fallen asleep that night, tangled with Rose and the blanket; pressed against the cold wall. 

The morning light had brought a confidence he’d never felt before, and Hux tried to hold onto the resolve in his gut. 

But that was last week, and the intervening days had passed in a blur of restocked turkeys and cans of soup. Now, Hux found himself seated in the horrible chair in front of his horrible therapist for the very last time. 

Doctor Holdo stared hawkishly at him from across her desk, monolithic in her grey pantsuit. Her shoulders were held stiff with impatience, and the light from the overhead bulbs gleamed off her expensive wristwatch. She cut an imposing figure as always, but today she seemed almost jubilant, a rare smile tugging at the edges of her mouth as she asked the same question she asked at the start of every one of their mind-numbing sessions. 

“Anything in particular on your mind today, Mister Hux?”

Hux regarded his therapist with what must be a blank expression. His mind stuttered to a halt, gears rusted into place from years of reinforcement screeching at the realization that this was the last time he’d sit in this chair. 

Anxiety dug it’s sharp claws into his chest, and every ounce of control he had painstakingly cultivated spun away. Every movement of the clock became a torture, every jump of the muscle below his eye begged to be counted.

He tapped a nervous finger against his knee, mulling over the words roiling under his skin and wondering if he was strong enough to give them voice. Hux looked down at his hands, his regular answer sitting on the tip of his tongue ready to leap to his defense. He could say no, could push away, could leave the walls in place and keep the status quo. 

But the status… was no longer quo. 

“Yes.” 

Doctor Holdo blinked. Her pen dropped to the pad on her desk, unheeded. She steepled her fingers and adjusted her reading glasses, peering at Hux in naked surprise. 

“... come again?”

“Yes. I - I have something I want to talk about.”

Doctor Holdo sat back, eyebrows searching for infinity in her hairline. “I am all ears. By all means… please.”

“I want to move in with R- with my girlfriend. Like she asked me to. And I want a better job. My fri- _Ben,_ Ben is leaving our job and says he could get me a job at his new workplace too. But I don’t know how.”

His therapist scowled, “You don’t think you know how to what? Apply for the job?”

Hux shook his head. “No." he paused, licked his lips and stared a hole into the carpet at his feet. “I don’t know how to change.”

Doctor Holdo sat back in her seat, stunned. 

His stomach roiled. He couldn't do this - it was a mistake, opening up like this. And to _Doctor Holdo_ , of all people, who had never once shown him anything but a cold indifference -

Why didn’t he just talk to Rose?

He knew why. He was a coward.

And a damned fool.

The dark spiral of his thoughts swallowed him up, and all he could think about was _her_. 

“Mister Hux - did you hear me?”

Hux snapped back into himself, blinking rapidly at the perturbed face of Dr. Holdo. She stared back at him owlishly, eyes wide behind purple glasses. 

“Ma’am. Yes. I mean - no.”

She sighed, full of resignation instead of the exasperation he had expected. “Mister Hux, this - this is your last session. And I want to help you, truly I do. But I don't think I can.”

He’d known it, he’d always known it, but the words stung all the same.

_Hopeless._

“But,” she continued, removing her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose, “I think I know someone who can.” Doctor Holdo was pulling papers from her drawer, gently pushing them across the desk towards him. “I have a colleague - a good one, I might add - who I think you may click with better than you have with me. I’m going to recommend that you continue with them.”

Hux reached out a sweaty hand, pulling the papers closer to him and looking at the name she’d scrawled at the top corner - Doctor Ackbar - and took the proffered pen absently.

“Sign this - here, and here, and here. I’ll speak to Gial myself, get his office to set you up. Scrawl a good phone number at the bottom, please, you can expect a call from them - oh, next week, perhaps? I’ll handle the court filings too, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, looking at her in plain surprise.

Doctor Holdo smiled - _smiled_ at him, folding her hands and sitting back in her chair. “Mister Hux, may I say something?”

Hux blinked, nodding minutely as he signed his name on the final line.

“Over the last two years, I’ve watched something in you thaw, little by little - I didn't really know what, or how, or why, only that I had nothing at all to do with it. It’s no great secret to me that you and I don’t get on, and perhaps I should have ignored my professional pride and referred you out before now - even if the paperwork was needlessly complicated - and for that I’m truly sorry. But nevermind all that, because today, you asked for help. You opened up - you made a choice. And that's not nothing, and if there’s anything at all that you take away from me, from these last four years, it's that you can be _brave_.”

The pen dropped to the carpet, and Hux folded nerveless fingers in his lap to still them. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again just as quickly, feeling vaguely nauseous. 

He was many things, but he was not brave.

“In the meantime,” Doctor Holdo continued unperturbed, “I think you should start by talking to your girlfriend. To Rose.”

Hux snapped his head up, meeting his therapist’s wry expression with a slack jaw.

She smiled, not unkindly. “I’ve never seen her to be anything other than understanding and good-hearted in all the years I've known her. Just talk to her.” 

Hux’s signed paperwork vanished into a manilla folder produced from yet another drawer. Doctor Holdo stood, their usual signal for the end of a session though the clock had only run out half their allotted time. Hux stood as well, a little too stiffly and a little too fast. He walked on unsteady legs to the lobby door, turning to face his therapist one last time as she gently cleared her throat.

“Goodbye, Mister Hux. It’s been…” she paused, chuckled lowly, “well. It perhaps has not been a pleasure. But it has been an experience, and one I hope that we’ve both learned from. I know I have.” 

“Goodbye, Doctor Holdo.” he intoned, extending a hand carefully. She took it, shook firmly and dropped it quickly, sensitive to his discomfort.

“Doctor Ackbar’s office will reach out to you next week. I’ll put in a call to him first thing tomorrow. Be well, Mister Hux.” 

He nodded, carefully stepping out of her office and into the empty lobby. Rose was not at her desk - dimly, he recalled that she was with Rey for some appointment today. Grabbing his jacket from the peg, he tried to ignore her empty desk and his rising panic.

Hux stepped through the door for the last time, not looking behind him. The winter wind stung his cheeks, and he tugged the collar of his jacket up. It was a long, cold walk back to his apartment, during which the bile rose in his throat as the enormity of what he’d done started to sink in.

It wasn’t even that he regretted telling Doctor Holdo what he was thinking. It wasn’t that he’d shortly have to deal with a new therapist or that his girlfriend’s boss knew they were dating -

It’s that when he had been asked to give a good phone number, Rose’s had appeared without hesitation.

He wasn't entirely sure what that meant.

Millicent yowled happily as he stepped into his apartment, winding herself around his legs and depositing orange hairs in her wake.

_Talk to her, talk to Rose, talk to her -_

Hux sank to the ground, back braced against the door. He pulled the cat into his lap, stroking her soft fur and eyeing the cabinet where a bottle of whisky lurked. 

One drink. Just to steady his nerves. 

Just one, then he’d call Rose. 

——

Hux awoke the next morning to a pounding on his door, irritatingly offbeat from the pounding in his head. He groaned, rolling his stiff neck as he lurched out of the recliner. Millicent grumbled as she jumped the floor, sulking off to a warmer corner of the apartment. 

Hux stumbled toward the door as another series of knocks sounded, louder this time. 

“‘m coming, I’m ‘ight here,” he slurred, the fetid stench of alcohol still heavy on his breath. He paused for a moment, stretched out a hand to catch against the wall. The room swam and his eyes closed, stomach burbling up unhappily. 

“Hux - you alright?” Finn’s thick South London accent bashed through the haze of last night’s drink. Hux managed the last few steps to the door on unsteady legs and with fingers that felt sausage-thick undid the chain, and the bolt, and the lock. 

Finn had the door open as soon as he heard the last lock slide free and burst into Hux’s dingy apartment like an over-exuberant terrier. Hux slid to the floor, having stumbled backward in belated surprise. He regarded his visitor with bloodshot eyes, grinning lopsidedly at Finn’s bewildered expression. A passing dust mote caught his attention, and Hux’s gaze followed it around the room before landing back on Finn. 

The other man was biting his lip, choking back a laugh. “Hux - holy hell mate, you’re in a state.”

Hux looked up at his neighbor blearily, blinking once at the daylight streaming in the open door. “‘Lo to you, too, Finn. Finnegan. Finley. Wha’s Finn even short for -”

Finn shook his head, bit back a wry laugh. “You’re proper pissed alright. Rose is going to have your head. She’s been worried sick - you had your last appointment yesterday? And then you didn’t call her? She’s been blowing up our phone since six this morning - apparently after calling Ben at four because she thought you might have had work after all - and she’s trying to get me to check on you before I left for work. So this is me, checking on you.”

“I consider m’self checked on,” Hux gurgled around a hiccup. He swept an arm around, encompassing both himself and the apartment, “‘n still alive, ‘s you can see. No worse for wear.” 

“Give yourself another hour, I don’t think you’ll be singing the same tune,” Finn chuckled, grabbing Hux’s upper arm and hauling him from the floor. “C’mon, you’re having a glass of water and going back to bed.”

“‘n a piss.”

“Whatever you say, mate. I’m going to call Rose from mine and let her know you aren’t passed out in a pool of your own blood, yeah? But you better call her yourself - where's your phone?”

“D’nt have a phone.”

“We’re living in the new millennium, and you don’t have a landline?”

“They’re not cheap, y’know. Also, the new millen… milen… it really starts _next_ year. In 2001.”

“Glad to know you’re still a pedantic arsehole stinking drunk.”

“D’nt think ‘ll make it to th’ pay phone.”

“The one by the 7-11? Jesus, I’m wondering if you’ll even make it to the bathroom. When you finish sleeping this off, come round to ours. Poe’s home all day, you can use our phone and he’ll feed you lunch, yeah? Just make sure you call Rosie before she kills the both of us.” 

Finn dragged Hux back to the small, disused bedroom and pushed him on the bed with zero preamble. A cloud of dust poofed up from the covers, and Finn wrinkled his nose in distaste as Hux coughed. 

“You really _sleep_ in here?”

“Th’ chair.”

“ _Jesus_ , Mary and Joseph - come on, get back up.”

——

When Hux awoke for the second time, there was a tall glass of water on the small end table beside his ancient armchair. Two aspirin were sat atop a note, hastily scribbled on some discarded junk mail. 

**_Take these when you wake up, and go next door. Poe has lunch._ **

**_\- Finn_ **

**_PS. CALL ROSE FIRST, YOU BLOODY MORON_ **

**_PPS. It’s short for Finnegan._ **

Hux groaned, rubbed his throbbing temples. He remembered Finn stopping by, but it honestly felt more like a dream than reality. He looked over at the kitchen counter, wincing when he saw that the mostly-full bottle of Cutty Sark was now mostly-empty. 

That would explain the cottonmouth and the strong desire for a greasy hamburger, then. 

_I am a moron._

Obediently, he swallowed the aspirin and downed the glass of water. He let the room spin for a moment, awash in recriminations and waiting for the buzz to wear down a bit so he could safely stand. He needed to go next door, desperately needed to call Rose. 

Desperately needed to explain _everything_ to her. 

Hux groaned, fisted his hands against his eyes. “I’m a _fucking_ moron.” 

Millicent meowed loudly from the kitchen. She trotted out a moment later, looking as smug as only a cat could. 

“Well _you’re_ no help, ma’am,” Hux grumbled, heaving himself out of the chair with considerably less grace than usual. Millicent meowed again, twitching her tail back and forth saucily. He scowled at the orange tabby, but without true malice. “And what right have you got to be so smug?” 

Hux stumbled into the kitchen, taking the whisky with him and intent on refreshing his glass of water. Then, he could go next door to pester Poe for the use of his phone. 

The bottle of whisky hit the bottom of the kitchen trash with a resounding _thunk_.

Millicent leapt onto the counter, bumping her head against his arm and purring like a motorboat. There was an opened can of tuna fish on the counter, licked clean. Hux scowled while scratching her ears. “You know that’s for special occasions, missy.”

Another junk mail note sat beside the can, decorated by Finn’s lopsided scrawl. 

**_She deserves it for putting up with you._ **

Hux grunted, felt heat rise in his cheeks. “I suppose he’s not wrong.”

Millicent meowed in agreement. 

——-

Barely half an hour later, Hux was gently rapping on his neighbor’s door, having showered and downed at least three more glasses of water in an attempt to sober himself up and chase away a hangover. He did have work in a few hours, after all. 

Poe opened the door on the first knock, leaving Hux’s fist hovering awkwardly in midair. He was wearing what could only be described as a thrift store reject sweater, too dark in places and too bright in others. He was grinning from ear to ear, his voice booming. 

Everything about him was just _too loud._

“Hux! You’re back among us. Finn said to expect you, and to tell you, uh -” he paused, clearing his throat, “to ‘make him call Rose immediately’ end quote. Phone’s outside the kitchen on the wall. I’ve almost got lunch heated up. Get to it - chop chop!”

Hux opened and closed his mouth, deciding a nod would be easier to manage for the both of them. He shuffled through the doorway, skirting carefully around Bebe sprawled across the tiny strip of linoleum serving as the entryway. She wheezed once in her sleep, but otherwise paid him no mind. 

Poe pointed ominously toward the phone before ducking into the kitchen, leaving Hux alone in the small room. He stared at the ancient phone, a drab olive green affair with a cracked handle and a hopelessly tangled cord, as if it could tell him what to say. 

He had never been good at words before, and he sincerely doubted that he’d be much improved now. 

The numbers were dialed, halting and slow, and Hux held the receiver to his ear. 

From the kitchen, he could hear offkey humming and the sizzle of hot oil, and the scent of a blessedly greasy hamburger wafted around the corner. 

From the phone, he heard only the crackle of ringbacks, then a soft click as Rose’s voicemail machine picked up. Hux’s heart sank.

“Hi, you’ve reached me - by me I mean Rose. I’m not able to come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number after the tone I’ll get back to you as soon as I -”

_beep._

“Rosie…” Hux sighed, closed his eyes. His head thumped against the wall. “Rosie, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, but uh… you knew that. I’m sorry I made you worry. I have work tonight, but I’ll come over after - tomorrow morning, first thing. If you want. I’ll explain everything. If you don’t want me to, I’ll understand, just… get a message to Ben. I’m sorry Rosie. I really am.”

The line went dead with a soft _click_ , and Hux placed the receiver back on it’s hook gently. He leaned his head back, studied the cracks in the ceiling plaster as if they were a map to the right answers. 

God, how he wished they were. 

Poe pushed open the kitchen door, carrying two plates of greasy hamburgers and oven-baked fries. He had an unnaturally cheerful smile plastered over his face and a giant water bottle tucked under one arm. 

“Finn made these for dinner last night, so we got lucky in the leftovers department. Pop a squat, Hugs, let me feed you.” 

Hux glowered, but did as he was told. 

——-

The holiday season was in full force at the grocery store, and as Hux rolled another ham onto the pile he realized he truly hoped it would be his last time stocking them. They were cold and heavy, and at unfortunate turns strangely damp. 

He was not as hungover as he deserved to be, but certainly more than he wanted to be, and between the cool of the freezers and the whine over the overhead lights a killer headache was brewing.

The unfamiliar seasonal help shuffling frozen turkeys across the aisle from him had already begun to irritate. The teenager was loud. The music coming from the headphones he refused to actually wear on his head but instead balanced around his neck like a dog collar was jarring, and it fought for supremacy with the soft music played on the store’s overhead. 

He also refused to talk without using the word “man” at the end of every sentence, so Hux mostly refused to engage him in conversation. 

Hux looked around again, down the aisle and back toward the stockroom, surreptitiously looking for Ben. He had yet to show for his shift, and in all the years Hux had known him he had been late exactly twice, and never _this_ late.

 _Stop worrying,_ he told himself, _Ben’s held up. It happens._

With a grimace, he placed the next ham on the pile as the loudspeaker crackled to life. 

“Armitage Hux, please report to the manager’s office - Armitage Hux, to the manager.”

The kid snorted, carelessly throwing another turkey into the freezer. “Whatdy’d you do, man?”

Hux scowled, looking first at the ceiling then his coworker. “Nothing, _boy ._ ”

He left the teen chuckling as he stalked down the aisle toward the front of the store. He’d been working at the grocery for four years - never once had he been called in. The tiny little voice in the back of his mind, the one that used to shout when a sniper was hiding in the dunes, began to whisper. 

The clock on the wall read 1:27 in the morning.

Hux pushed open the door to the small office, greeted the manager as he stood from his battered leather chair. 

“Armitage, good - there’s a phone call for you.” The sweaty man gestured at the yellowed plastic handset where a red hold light blinked innocently. He seemed nervous, anxious to leave. “I’ll step out for a moment.” 

The door was shut behind him before Hux could even respond. He grabbed the handset from it’s cradle, jamming down the hold button as he did so.

Rose’s voice greeted him almost instantly. 

“Armie, thank God -” Her voice was shaky, higher pitched than normal. 

His stomach sank, senses kicking into overdrive.

“Rose, tell me what’s wrong.” Hux gripped the phone too tightly, adrenaline sending a shiver down his spine.

“I’m fine, I’m fine -” Rose choked, “Rey and I are waiting for the taxi to arrive...”

_Fuck._

“She is? You are? That's - that’s early, isn't she?” Hux frantically tried to recall the dates Rose had told him, casting his eyes around the small office for the time-off calendar -

“Yes, but -” a cry interrupted Rose’s train of thought, and her voice wavered. “Rey, honey, I got Armie on the phone, you just -”

Rey’s wail crackled in the earpiece, and Hux winced.

“Mercy? Saint Mary’s?”

“The university hospital, but Armie… we can’t find Ben. They had a fight, around ten, Rey called me in tears so of course I came over - Ben left, he stepped out - we thought just for work, and now they’re saying that he didn’t come in -”

“No, he’s not here.”

“God -”

His stomach quailed at the fear in Rose’s voice, at the whimpers in the background of their phone call. A horn blared loudly enough for Hux to register the noise on his end. He grit his teeth, mind racing. 

The memories of sands in the desert shifted, and something slid into place along his spine. Hux straightened, looking between the small digital clock on the overcrowded desk and the slightly cracked door. “Go - Rose, you focus on getting Rey to the hospital. I’ll find Ben and we’ll meet you there.”

_Improvise._

The relief in Rose’s voice was palpable. “Thank you, Armie - Rey, sweetie, where’s your bag? Do you have your coat? Here, I’ll get the cozy one -”

The line went dead with a click, and Hux dropped it back in the cradle with nerveless fingers. 

_Ben Organa, you fucking moron._

He blew through the cracked office door, brushing past his manager as he turned towards the employee lockers. _Get your coat, punch out - check the diner, the diner’s always open -_

_Would Ben go to the diner?_

“Hey! Hux!” his manager blustered after him, waddling on stubby legs that were no match for Hux’s longer strides. He was at his locker before the shorter man had even reached the breakroom door, spinning the dial to retrieve his coat from the near-empty locker with practiced ease.

_If not the diner, maybe a bar - but Ben was good, Ben had not gone back to his old ways in so long - just how bad was this fight? What bar would Ben have even gone to? That tiny dive on -_

Hux didn’t even register that his manager was speaking to him until pudgy fingers ripped his punchcard from his hand before the clock could register the time.

“Hux! What is the meaning of this?” The portly man huffed, red-faced.

“Family emergency.” _I don't have time for this, I do not need to explain myself to_ _you_ _-_

“Of what sort?”

“My girlfriend’s - my sister is in labor.”

_Adapt._

“Well, your girlfriend’s with her, isn't she? It will keep till the end of your shift.”

Hux said nothing, only tilting his head a further degree to the right as he stared down the man. 

His manager stared back, unperturbed. “Go back and find Colin, please.”

“No.”

“Am I going to have to write you up for this?”

“I need to leave.”

The man chuckled, not unkindly but with finality. “I understand you’re nervous, but you're not the one doing the delivering, son -”

“They need me. My - Rose, she asked me to -”

“- stay here, work away the wait. We still have another truck to offload and we’re already shorthanded with Piett out sick and Organa no-call-no-showing -” 

_Not even a call..._

Hux made a fist, looking down at the timecard still held in his manager’s grasp. “I need to find him. Rose needs me to find him. With all due respect, I need to go.”

“Wait - find who, Organa? What does he have to do with your sister? What’s really going on -”

 _I do not have time for this blathering._ “I have already told you that I’m experiencing a family emergency and my presence is required elsewhere. I have not taken a sick day in nearly four years of employment with this company. I am taking one now.” Hux could feel the flush creeping into his cheeks, and he grit his teeth.

If his manager - Jim, the faded plastic tag read, his name was Jim - had known Hux a little better, the tone of his voice may have warned him off from further reply. However, Jim was at his core small-minded and deeply unobservant.

“You’re not sick, Hux. Work your shift.”

“Are you telling me I can’t leave?”

“Not for four more hours.”

“My family needs me.”

“Your _job_ needs you.”

“I don't need this job.”

Jim frowned. “Of course you do.” The unspoken words regarding his parole officer clouded the air between them. 

Hux blinked, realizing his manager thought he had him over a barrel, that he should be frightened by the notion of being tattled on. It was an ugly thought, and he knew it was an accurate one. Hux looked between his manager's widening smug smile and the timecard for a moment, pausing to let the blood rushing from his heart catch up with his head. He plucked the card cooly from Jim's fist, dunking it into the timeclock with a heavy thunk. 

_Overcome._

“Not anymore.” He unclipped the small plastic badge from his shirt, offering the nametag and the punched card to his boss with steady nerves. The man spluttered, refused to stretch out his hand - and the nameplate fell to the linoleum with a pitiful click.

The time on the card was 1:34am.

Hux strode out of the automatic doors and into the cold of the winter evening, turning sharply on his heel and heading for the diner. The old snow crunched rhythmically under his boots, the pattern emphasizing the crystallized bullet points of his thoughts. It felt good to know his mission. 

Snow, sand - they sounded almost the same under pressure. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/weddersins).


End file.
